


Serendipity

by PoliticalPadmé (magnetgirl)



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-01 11:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16764328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetgirl/pseuds/PoliticalPadm%C3%A9
Summary: That time Padmé accidentally walked in on the wrong naked Jedi.





	Serendipity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jen425](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jen425/gifts).



It started by mistake, coincidence, happenstance. And yet it was inevitable.

It had been a year since the war began, and coincidentally, inevitably, since Anakin and Padmé snuck off to Naboo to be married. War loomed over their relationship from the very beginning and they spent most of that year at battle. In space, in the Senate, across the galaxy, they fought with speeches and sabers, and clung to the silences in between. A passion built on brushed fingertips in the hallway and furtive smiles from across a room, sustained by clandestine meetings after hours and falling asleep side by side. But in the morning, inevitably, one had to slip away and the other woke alone.

A year after their wedding, coincidentally, or conspiratorially, the couple found themselves back on Naboo. The young Queen, newly elected, was hosting a conclave of political leaders from nearby systems, shoring up funding and support of the war effort. Padmé returned home as representative of the Republic, and for this particular gathering the Chancellor himself, and the Jedi Order sent Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka along for protection — and to keep an eye on proceedings. The four, plus Jar Jar, were given a suite of rooms in the east wing of the palace for the duration of the conference.

It was afternoon on the second day. The first had been long, a seemingly endless parade of dignitaries each given five minutes to make a short statement, each short statement ultimately taking three times as long followed by a traditional five course meal and a concert by the Gungun delegate. It was after midnight before they returned to the suite and by the time the others had retired to their rooms Anakin had only enough energy to slip into Padmé’s bed and fall asleep in her arms. And she was up and away before he woke, a full schedule of meetings in the morning.

But her afternoon was free. Moreover, she knew Jar Jar was out with the Queen, Ahsoka was meeting with the Legislative Youth, and the evening before she’d overheard Senator Organa inviting Obi-Wan to tour the vineyards. Having requested privacy from the palace servants, she and Anakin had the suite to themselves for hours.

A wave of floral smells hit her as soon as she slipped into the inner assembly of rooms, and steam was wafting from under the door to the large bath. Padmé smiled, anticipating the heat of the air and water, pictured Anakin splashing playfully before pulling her close, drawing a sponge down her body and — she licked her lips and started to unbutton her gown. Her husband's Jedi robes were in a puddle at the foot of the lounge. She undressed quickly, dropping layers of clothing into the mix, and finally picked up his outer robe to drape over her naked body. Scandalous to be sure, but less so than their marriage. Married a year but they spent less than half of it together; their love survived that, the Order would survive a little harmless mischief. She pulled the hood up over her eyes and pushed through the door.

"Oh, ‘Master’", she called, tiptoeing through the swirling steam, lightly pink from the floral bath. "I'm ready to spar…" She stopped a few steps from the edge of the bathing pool, threw back the hood and let the cloak slide down her body as she giggled, "Is your lightsaber—"

A splash, accompanied by a noise somewhere between the squeal of a small animal and her name, broke her concentration one split second too late.

"— lit. . ."

The cloak hit the ground and she stood, her skin glowing, her hair bouncing, tiny droplets of water slipping down her smooth, pale, entirely unadorned skin, stark naked in front of the wrong Jedi.

Squeaking again, Obi-Wan stood, fully intending to retrieve the cloak and wrap it back over her body, before remembering, again a split second too late, that he wasn't wearing anything either.

They stood, frozen, with identical expressions of horror and embarrassment, their minds running through options for salvaging the situation, their bodies reacting with far less interest in propriety. Realizing this, Obi-Wan retreated to the water, dropped to his knees, and forced his eyes to focus on the tiles of the steps.

Padmé snatched the robe off the floor and threw it around herself — still feeling somewhat dirty now knowing it was _Obi-Wan'_ s, but it the closest available cover up. She crossed her arms over her chest to keep it closed tight, raised her shoulders, and took a deep breath. But her heart was still racing. She should leave, turn and walk out and never mention it again, but she couldn't seem to get her limbs under control. An awkward silence built, punctuated only by the gentle roar of the hydrosystem keeping the bathwater fresh.

"You were expecting someone else." Obi-Wan's voice was low, but in the quiet, piercing.

"No," Padmé lied automatically, and despite his frown, she stumbled on, "I was — preparing a speech. I sometimes. . . role-play. . . to help me . . . settle my nerves."

"I see," Obi-Wan answered.

Two words, simple and straightforward, accepting, but the hint of disappointment in his tone was enough to break through her fear and twist her shame. Padmé dropped to the floor in a rush, as if her legs simply wouldn't hold her up anymore.

Obi-Wan's frown deepened. He wanted to reach out to her, wanted to look up, make certain she was all right, but he didn't want to rattle her with his nakedness or any further inappropriate reactions. This is nothing his Jedi training prepared him for. Interpersonal relationships outside the Order are frowned upon. But as he considered his options he felt her fingers brush his chin, gently prodding him to raise his eyes, and meet hers.

She nodded. "I was expecting someone else."

"Anakin," he said, not really a question, and she nodded again.

"We've been married a year."

_"Married_?" Obi-Wan repeated, incredulous. It was a level of commitment he didn't expect, though it's possible that was short sighted. It's even more possible he ignored the reality in favor of a simpler fiction. He cleared his throat. "Perhaps we might…convene to the sitting room to discuss this? Clothed?"

A smiled tugged at her lips as she nodded and stood, retrieved a robe from the wall and held it out for the Jedi. The palace bathrobe was purple and satiny and dry and she'd much rather be wearing it than the coarse brown Jedi cloak but avoiding a return to nudity was more important than comfort at this juncture. They just had to get into the main suite and they could dress and sit and speak civilly.

But by happenstance, or destiny, as they exited the steam room, Anakin entered, laden with fresh fruit and a carafe of sparkling wine. 

At another time and space, this scenario might have ended in tears and recrimination and a fight to the death, but this one proves those tragedies are not as inevitable as they've been sold.

"Master?"

"Ani—"

"Padmé…"

"Anakin,"

A beat passed as they all took a breath. Anakin took a step back, placed the platter on a table, and crossed his arms. 

"Let's start with — what are you _wearing_?"

Obi-Wan and Padmé were a portrait in looking anywhere but at each other. 

"I walked in— Someone was in the bath."

"I was in the bath..."

"I thought it was — I thought the cloak was yours. I put it on and—"

"I heard her voice, the words were... strange, but... I didn't... I looked up and, and—"

"I wasn't looking, I just..."

Padmé shut her eyes tight, raised a hand to cover them. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, clasped his hands and addressed Anakin directly.

"Anyway." Another breath. "She's wearing my robe so I had to make due with what was available." He spread his hands wide. "Which is this."

Another awkward silence built as Anakin looked them both over: Padmé hiding her face— and body — in damp, drooping, too large Jedi robes, and Obi-Wan attempting to appear nonchalant in deep purple clinging satin embroidered with the royal symbol of Naboo.

"It suits you," he intoned, finally, with a wry grin, before turning to his wife. "I might have nightmares about that, though."

The two greeted his words with identical expressions of confusion and disbelief. In response his grin widened. 

"Come on, I have food. And I think you both need a drink."

Anakin retrieved his tray and made his way to the solar. Bewildered, Obi-Wan and Padmé followed and sat as directed on the sofa opposite him.

"Ani..." Padmé started as he poured two glasses and placed one in front of each of his companions.

"I don't have a third glass...maybe we can share?" he mused. Padmé rose, retrieved a tumbler from a cabinet behind them and placed it next to Anakin's carafe. He grinned and poured a third drink, for himself.

"Ani," she said again, returning to her seat. "We need to talk."

"I'm not going to say anything!" Obi-Wan blurted, suddenly, causing Padmé to jump and Anakin to raise his eyebrows. "I...encourage you — two to, to say something. But I— I won't." He looked at each in turn. "It's not my place." And having said it he picked up the glass and downed the wine. 

Padmé picked at a thread on her sleeve, remembered she was — _still_ — wearing Obi-Wan's robe and decided to sit on her hands. Anakin smiled with obvious affection. 

"I'm glad this happened," he admitted. "I'm tired of—" He shook his head, glanced to Obi-Wan. "I hated lying to you." Then Padmé. "And I hated treating you like something I'm ashamed of." She reached across the table, grasped his hand in hers. "I suppose I wish — it didn't require you to be— _naked_ — _together_ — but..." He squeezed Padmé's hand. "I mean, it could have been worse."

Padmé blinked. 

"...Worse?" 

Anakin's eyes twinkled. "It could have been Jar Jar." Padmé's mouth dropped open, fury building behind her eyes, but Anakin burst into laughter and just as quickly her outrage dissipated. "Or Ahsoka!" he chortled as she slapped his hand. He let go and grabbed her wrists, pulling her up and into a tight embrace.

"Anakin Skywalker, you take this seriously!"

"I am! I promise!"

"We can't ask Obi-Wan to lie for us, no matter what either of you thinks about—" He kissed her. "—honor or—" And again. "—Jedi—Je—" And he pushed the cloak back, exposing her shoulder, drew his fingers down her skin, pulled her closer, hooked his arm around her waist, the cloak slipping off her skin. 

Obi-Wan stood abruptly, cleared his throat, and mumbled "I'll just... go, then," and started to turn away, but Anakin's response stalled him.

"Why?"

Obi-Wan stared, quite unable to speak, and not entirely convinced he wasn't delirious, or dreaming, for at least the past half hour. Anakin turned to Padmé, silently asked her consent to move forward. Her answering smile filled the room, and together they turned back to Obi-Wan.

"If everything has to change now," Anakin explained, "I want to have one perfect moment." He reached a hand out toward Obi-Wan, and Padmé echoed, the cloak slipping again to the floor as she raised her hand. Obi-Wan watched as it dropped, then followed the line of her body up to their outstretched hands. Everything seemed to slow down as he contemplated their offer, and finally, inevitably, completed the circle.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with this prompt on National Tea Day, April 21, 2016, and finally found a reason to write it!


End file.
